Free From Prophecy
by Lycanthropic Nerev
Summary: COMPLETE. These are the adventures of Jongard, the Nerevarine, after the events of Morrowind and the expansions. It is a tale of his past, and alludes to his future. T for violence and language.
1. Atonement, Dreams and Plans

_**Author's Note:** Well here we are again. I'll probably update this infrequently at first, since I'm mostly focusing on Story of Octavian. I just got some inspiration that I don't want to whaste. It is the continuing adventures of the Nerevarine after Morrowind ends. Some characters from the Story of Octavian may have a cameo appearance._

_**Disclaimer:** Bethesda owns The Elder Scrolls._

Free from Prophecy 

Atonement, Dreams and Plans 

The tall, well built Nord stood atop a hill overlooking the city of Narsis in Southern Morrowind. It was here that he would find who he was looking for. This Nord was named Jongard, but he had another name around the country that was now as much his home as Skyrim: Nerevarine.

Jongard had come to Morrowind, a prisoner and outlander, a friendless orphan who had no idea of who or what he was. After a year, he was where he was. Immortal, Hortator, and a hero. He grinned his wry, amused grin as he thought the word, "immortal."

He looked down at the town square. There was a great commotion. One of the hiers of the Oreyn blood had been found. Jongard removed the Dragonbone helm from his head and let his long, blond hair blow in the breeze. He stared long and hard at the helm, and the very thought of how he had obtained it made him sick at himself.

He had killed a mer to get the helm. It once belonged to Oreyn Bearclaw, a false hero. He had been ordered by a Daedra to do it, and his friend and second-in-command Percius Mercius tried to rationalize that Malacath would have killed him had he not done it, but he would still hate himself. Wearing the helm as a symbol that he would someday amend his many wrongs.

Today was the day he would begin to seek forgiveness. Today he found the cousin of the Dunmer he had killed to get the helm, and would return it within the day. But first, he had someone else to meet. He felt the familiar magical pulse as the white door appeared and out stepped his advisor from another life.

He gave a nod. "Vivec, my friend. Are you feeling any weaker?"

The gray-and-gold mer with large eyes gave a small chuckle. "Apple-polishing or genuine concern?"

For the first time in months, Jongard laughed out loud. A full, bellowing laugh that echoed down the hill. "A little of both, friend." He joked.

It was mostly genuine concern. Vivec was dying. It may take many years, but he was. Without the Heart of Lorkhan, he would begin to age and die. Jongard would live forever, unless someone could ever kill him. "Yes, I feel weaker. Only a little, but still."

"How do you plan on spending what's left of your time?"

"I will travel, I suppose. If you could ever believe it, I've only ever seen Morrowind and the Northeast corner of Cyrodiil. One would think I would have gone to see more when I was not at risk of death."

"Then I'll go with you. I need some time to think, at least. You know why I was sent to Morrowind."

Vivec nodded gravely. "the murder of your companions."

A tear welled in Jongard's eye. They were his dear friends, fellow orphans who had formed a band of swords-for-hire in Skyrim. Viskar One-Ear, Malaea Sea-Eyes and Gar the Axe-Man. Only he had no family name. They had been old enough to know who they lost. He never knew his own family, or if he even had relatives alive today.

He had killed them. His brethren, his misery's company. They begged him to do it, but he still blamed himself. That horrid night in the ice cave haunted his dreams whenever Dagoth Ur did not. With him dead, they took his sleep every time he closed his eyes.

But back to the present, the ceremony for Oreyn was beginning in the square.

"I will return in two days to set up our travels. We cannot just up and leave, you understand," Vivec said, "we need a cover story."

"You got it, but make it three." Jongard said as he waved back at his old friend. His almost youthful energy returning as the white door appeared for Vivec. His amends to the Oreyn family, and to all else, would begin today.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

After the ceremony had ended, Jongard waited by the stables behind Oreyn's house. The mer himself rounded the corner for his horse and jumped out of his boots at the sight of the ebony-clad, cloaked figure with the package.

"Who the hell are you?" Oreyn exclaimed.

Jongard's mouth, the only visible part of his face, slanted into the wry, half-grin that was his signature in Vivec City, where he lived. "A stranger."

"What do you want?" The jumpy, battle-ready Oreyn snarled.

"To be forgiven. I'm starting with you."

"Forgiven?"

Jongard hung his head. "It was me who killed your cousin."

"You did what? You bastard! It was you!" With that, Oreyn drew a pitiful iron long sword and charged at Jongard. He stood there, head hung, until the last second, when he grabbed the swinging blade with his bare left hand, inces from his obscured visage. He shook his head. His cape billowed back as he sent out a shock wave to throw the young man back. He was a good fighter, but not good enough.

"I came to bring this back to you." Jongard mournfully said. "May your ancestors rest easy." He unwrapped the helm, and tossed it to Oreyn, who stared at it in shock. "My ancestors…"

"It rightfully belongs to you." A tear slid down Jongard's cheek. "I hope you and your ancestors can find it in your hearts…"

"I still hate you. But I can see that you hate yourself even more. I'll try to forgive you. I probably never will, but I can try."

"Thank you, and goodbye. Never make… the mistakes I made."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

_"Jon…gard" Gar was bloodied on the ground, but still alive. He rose up, and ran at the creature behind the disarmed Jongard. _

_"Gar! No!" Gar lopped off the creatures head with his axe Razor Wind, but not before receiving one more bite._

_"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he yelled as he collapsed backwards clutching his shoulder._

_"GAR! GAAAAAR!" Jongard yelled at his fallen companion as he held his head like a child._

_Gar's eyes opened weakly. Tears flowed down Jongard's cheeks. "Please..., Kill me, before the curse takes hold!"_

_"No, Gar, I won't kill you." _

_"Do it, I won't be one of them!" Gar's strength was returning, but he was twitching and groaning in pain as he resisted the curse in his viens._

_"No!"_

_"DO IT!" Gar yelled as his mind began to weaken._

_"RAAAAAAAAHH!" Jongard's scream echoed through the cavern as his sword went through his friend. _

"_The… others… may still be…. uuuh." Gar went limp and a look of peace consumed his face. Tears poured from Jongard._

_"Gar…"_

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ah!" Jongard bolted up with a little yell. Gar had been the first of his friends to die. He knew the sequence. First he would see Gar die, then Viscar, then Malaea. At least tomorrow night he wouldn't dream, that he knew…

_That's the rewritten first chapter. It's been edited for spelling and repitition._


	2. Pre Journey Preparations

_**Author's Note:** Here's the second chapter of Jongard's Tale._

_**Disclaimer:** Bethesda Softworks is the owner of the Elder Scrolls Sieries._

Free From Prophecy

Pre-Journey Preparations

Jongard did not go back to sleep that night. Instead, he took a "Restore Fatigue" potion to keep himself awake for the day. At dawn he got some food down the stairs from his room at the inn and left after eating. He had quite a bit of buisness to do today.

He created a magical pulse, and focused it on one spot to perform the "recall" spell. He stepped through the door he created and was whisked away. He had long since gotten used to the nausea which was an unavoidable counterpart to that type of spell. He arrived at the swirling snow and biting wind of the Raven Rock mining colony. He made his way to the manor, where Falco was waiting.

His manor was quite warm, due mostly to the quality insulation his workers had used, and also to his own magical prowess. It didn't take much more than a constant fire spell bound to small items in his home. But now was the time for buisness, not comfort.

"Still in decline?" He asked as he walked in.

"Unfortunately, yes. We can barely afford to fix the pickaxes." Falco said.

"And the mines themselves?"

"We're having trouble finding any more ebony deposits, three passages have collapsed, and one may have a nasty infestation of Grahl."

"Things just get worse and worse, don't they?"

"Yes, but is there anything we can do?"

Jongard thought on this for a moment. Then he got a beautiful idea.

"Falco, I've got it!"

"What?"

"Carnius intended to use this mine to get Stahlrim, right?"

"Yes, but isn't Stahlrim taboo?"

"Yes and no. It's taboo if it's from the tombs, but if you sell it in weapon form…" Jongard began.

"… then it could make a fortune!" Falco finished.

"I'll go see Graring about it. If the colony has to fail, we'll go out with a bang! At least enough of one to have the miners not be completely broke."

The actual transactions were boring. Graring demanded that half the profits go to him so that he and his fellow outcasts could buy food and skins. Easy enough.

Next, Jongard had to go to the Thirsk Mead Hall and renounce his chieftain status. He needed a successor, and he knew just who it would be.

After taking a drink of Mead, he stood before his throne.

"I must leave this hall now, and I may never return. I now choose my successor as chieftain." Jongard said. He looked at a young man who had just come of age.

"I name Angar, from here on Angar the Unwavering, as the new chieftain of the Thirsk Mead Hall, for his valor in battle against an entire hunting party of Berserkers. His battle trophy shall be their Den Mother's Ax."

Angar rose, surrounded by cheers, and accepted his new position. As the celebration began, Jongard had to leave Solsthiem. He still had a few more things to do before nightfall. He teleported again. He hoped to someday return.

Ald'Ruhn was hot and dusty, as always. The Fighter's Guild building was less dusty, but more hot. Jongard decended the stairway to where Percius Mercius always stood. As usual, he resented the idea of being Master of the Vvardenfell branch of the Fighter's Guild, but Jongard ordered him to be his regent until he could return. Now he had to teleport to House Hlaalu's council hall in Balmora.

In a rushed speech, he told the Council that they would need to rule in his stead, and to continue their peace talks with House Dres and King Helseth. He dashed out of the building and telepoted to a Daedric Ruin called Onnissiralis on an island near Ald Redaynia. He silently shut the door behind him.

He took two deep breaths, and the splitting pain envealoped his body. He felt his skin stretch, his flesh contort, and his bones split and realign. Every inch of his body felt as though it was being stabbed with the very tip of Mehrunes' Razor as hair began to sprout, until he was covered with shaggy brown fur. The bones in his face stretched horribly and changed to a muzzle, and then he stopped thinking, knowing that he was effectively dead until the dawn. He slept inwardly as he began to massacre the cultists of Sheogorath to feed his burning hunger.

_And that's why my name is Lycanthropic Nerev. When I started using the internet I was doing this file. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, even though it started out slow. Onnissiralis is actually in the game._


	3. Second Dream, Second Death

_**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay. Summer reading, etc. I hope tyo update this and the Story of Octavian faster from here on._

_**Disclaimer:** As always._

Free From Prophecy 

Second Dream, Second Death 

Jongard woke the next morning on the Mad God's altar. After dressing himself and checking his equipment, he left the Daedric Ruin and teleported to Vivec City. He needed some rest.

He had not been made a werewolf in the ice cave when his friends died fighting them in the cave. He had managed to escape unafflicted. It was Solsthiem where it had happened. It wasn't really that hard to live with it, but he still sometimes felt a pang of guilt when he thought of how hard his friends had fought to wipe them out in Skyrim.

He slept in is home, a room in the St. Olms canton. All through the day and night. He dreamed the next dream in the sequence.

_----------------------------------------------------_

_"Jongard! Over here!" Viskar called from behind a stalaagmite of ice._

"_Viskar, Gar is dead." Jongard almost cried out as he said it, as did Viskar. They had no family but eachother. _

"_The bastards! What about Malaea?"_

"_I don't know."_

_They both jumped into the air as a growl was emmited behind them. Jongard drew his greatsword as Viskar drew his dagger. While Jongard could attack at moderate range, Viskar had to get close. The beast's claws rent his flesh like steel as the silver dagger slit it's throat. _

_They both fell, but Viskar was still alive. He was crippled and disfigured. _

"_Jongard, I can't go on like this."_

"_Viskar, don't you do this, too!"_

"_Malaea and me got seperated back down that tunnel," he said, pointing to the easternmost passage, "She might still be okay. If she is, you both get out, and come back with an army. There were hundreds a cavern down that way." He pointed weakly towards another tunnel. _

"_We'll get out." Jongard said, again on the verge of tears._

"_One last thing," Viskar said, "It's either wait here and die of these wounds, or you help me along, and you know I'm not that patient." Viskar chuckled a little, though how he could was beyond Jongard. "Do it with my dagger, then leave it in me." Jongard did it quick, screaming with pain as though the silver blade was piercing his own heart. Viskar let out a sigh, and went limp._

_----------------------------------------------------_

Jongard awoke, blinded with tears. It had been his fault, his idea to go and kill the Werewolves in the cave! It had seemed like such a good plan. Kill a few overblown dogs, come out famous heroes spoken of all over Skyrim. He hadn't factored on the werewolves being so powerful, or so many. He shook it off quickly, he had to meet up with Vivec. He left his small apartment, taking whatever he felt he'd need. Food, potions and a rather enourmous scroll collection, they were all placed in his enchanted bag along with his half-million Septims, and he left for his new adventure.

_The next chapter isn't going to be for a while, probably._


	4. Blood Spilled

_**Author's Note:** Not much to say, here. Just enjoy the chapter._

_**Disclaimer:** Bethesda owns the sieries, but the plot of this story is mine._

Free From Prophecy

Blood Spilled 

As Jongard stepped out of his house, something felt "off." It was as though something was missing. He couldn't place his finger on it, but something familiar and important was gone.

He was walking over to Vivec's Palace when it hit him. The Ministry of Truth had fallen from the sky. It jutted out of the water beside the High Fane.

"This does not bode well," Jongard thought, breaking into a sprint. He was nearly in a panic as he ascended the giant stairway to Vivec's Chamber. Nothing in all of Nirn or Aetherius could have prepared him for what he saw then.

Vivec lay facedown on the ground, his normally blue and gold skin pale and lifeless. He was breathing, but only just. On his neck there were two small, red pricks. The sure sign of a vampire.

Jongard flipped Vivec over, but he just stared blankly at the light streaming in through the tinted glass of the ceiling. He said nothing, but his thoughts projected what Jongard needed to see. A Khajiit Vampire who was not from Morrowind, or it's three vampire clans, attacking with a savage ferocity to gain the once-demigod's powerful blood. There was something vital to be learned in Skyrim.

Vivec went quietly. Jongard, his eyes burning with vengeance, roared out with a blood-curdling war cry. The one who did this would die by his hand, and so would all his accursed kin! He began preparations immediately, whisking off to a Dwemer ruin in the middle of the Ashlands. He knew of the vampire lairs in Morrowind, but he had let them alone until now. Galom Daeus, the headquarters of the Berne Clan. He drew both of his enchanted scimitars, Trueflame and Hopesfire, and obliterated the door. He stormed in, a whirlwind of Thunder, Fire and Death. The dark kin of his friend's murderer dropped like flies as he stormed through the fortress. He found the observatory door locked, so he charged a spell and let it loose. Both doors flew inward, and he cornered Raxle Berne.

"The Khajiit Vampire from the other land, have you seen him?" Jongard yelled.

"I shelter no-one of any inferior clan!" Berne said.

"But did he come here?"

"Yes, he claimed to have some grand plan for vampiric domination of Nirn, but he was weak, and from a weak clan. I sent him away."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know, or care."

"Wrong answer!"

Jongard took Trueflame and stabbed it into Berne's stomach. He screamed out as he began to disintegrate into vampire dust. Jongard twisted the blade around as the vampire died. He took the dust as a trophy, and set out again.

He received simmilar reactions from all the other clans of Morrowind. He knew that Vivec needed him to go to Skyrim, but not why. He decided that since he had no other leads, he would go.

_Just so you know, at a certain point this story will be marked as "complete" but it won't be over. It will continue in "The Story of Octavian" in the Oblivion section. That should be interesting after I'm finished telling Jongard's story up until the time he goes to Cyrodiil, since he's fanatically anti-vampire and Octavian is a vampire himself._


	5. Visions in the Ice

Free From Prophecy

Visions in the Ice

Jongard finally arrived in Skyrim after all those years. He felt the familiar cold on his face, along with both peace and sadness. Vivec's imagery as he died suggested a spire of solid ice, surrounded by smaller spires. He knew of the spire, it was atop a mountain south of the Winter Hold. He had once camped there before he was imprisoned, and it was said to be a place of spirits, but he had never seen any there.

After three days of arduous travel over valleys and mountains he came to it, but there was a fundemental feeling in the air which was different. The short, bald pilgrim who accompanied him from a tavern along the way said, "You need to know someone close who's died. It's said you can see friends and family who have passed, and who still needed to say something to a living person."

Finally, the pilgrim had been useful for anything! Jongard concentrated and he heard a familiar voice, but it was far from the one he was hoping for.

"Good to see you, Nerevar." A cold, chilling voice, echoing in death, said with gleeful vengeance. A tall, golden-masked Dunmer appeared, looking like a reflection in the mirror-like ice of the Spire.

"I thought I killed you twice already." Jongard said, his hands reaching for Trueflame and Hopesfire.

"You won't need the weapons. Neither of us can do any harm to the other. I am dead, but as long as you are here I can manifest myself. However, my House Dagoth is dead, and your deeds have caused repercussions even I could not forsee." Dagoth Ur's frozen wraith said.

"Name one." Jongard said.

"I have seen one of our old friends from your former life. He is a prisoner of Daedra. Vivec. He charged me with a message. The vampire who killed him would have become infinitely more powerful than he did had you not ended Vivec's godhood. There is a second part to the message, but before he was dragged off, he told me not to tell you what it was until you came to grips with your past."

"Why are you helping me, Voryn? When I destroyed the Heart I killed you, ended his godhood and became immortal myself. What motive could you possibly have to help me?"

"When you killed me, I was surprised to awaken in Boethia's plane of Oblivion, where his followers also go. Vivec respected Boethia as his anticipation, and so he was brought here. But what you don't know is that Oblivion is in upheaval. Vivec himself was taken by Mehrunes Dagon's forces as they conquered most of Boethia's realm, which is why he cannot speak to you himself. I do not desire the same fate. Go, to the ice cave of the wolves, is what he told me. He said you know what happened there."

As Dagoth Ur dissapeared, Jongard thought of the night in the cave. He realized that he could not feel any other presences of spirits, even though Malaea had one thing left to say before she died. It perplexed and worried him. They had not died in combat, so they were either in Aetherius or Oblivion. If they were in Oblivion, was the realm they has reached conquered also? Had they been captured and damned to eternal slavery? It was too terrible to think about.

The bald pilgrim stopped at the inn at the bottom of the mountain to await a guide home. "Thank the gods" Jongard thought as he waved goodbye. He started south to the cave.


	6. Frozen Tears

Free From Prophecy

Frozen Tears

Jongard shook with fear and sadness. He had loved them as his brothers and sister. He was walking to the cave. The terrible events that had happened there played in his mind, after the previous night's dream. It had been the last in the sequence.

_He was walking through the tunnel, tears freezing solid on his face. He came to a large cavern, where his sister was dying. Her eyes told him to end her suffering. As he killed her,She managed to utter, "Brother, we…" But she died before she could finish. He yelled out in pain. He was alone again. He turned himself in to the Guard, and was shipped to Morrowind. The rest of his story would live on forever, as would he,but the beginning was lost._

He reached the cave at last, and heard the inhuman yells of the men who had gon mad, forever a wolf in their minds. He became furious. He was weak then, but now he was strong enough. He drew the swords at his sides, and strode in. They came at him in waves, some transforming themselves, some not. It didn't matter. He slew any that came near him. They swarmed him, by the was invincible!

The two nearest changed wolves jumped, and he spun, taking them both out. Two humans also ran up, and fell headless to the ground. He stabbed one through the heart, and jumped into the largest cavern, abnd watched hundreds of men transform. He smiled, and cried for vengeance. He jumped into the center of the hoarde and created a whirlwind around him of fire and lightning. It moved outward and began to kill them all. The cave itself shook with the heat, and Jongard began to run to the entrance as it collapsed. The cave crumbled behind him, and he and another hundred werewolves escaped. He jumped into them, flying from one to the other. Each one lost it's head as it entered his deadly range. He moved even too fast for them to see. He slew them all, and soaked with blood, began the trip back.

He missed one. He heard a snarl behind him, and turned to see the biggest werewolf he had ever seen. Twelve feet tall, the wolf roared. Jongard grinned, and roared bacck, the ring on his finger growing, and him envoking the strenth of his two patron Daedra, he jumped and slammed down with his claws. The larger wolf whined, and growled. He slashed back, leaving three gashes on Jongard's furry arm. Jongard yelped, and bit down on the other's left paw. It roared and leaped back, with one less weapon to use. They stared eachother down, and both ran at eachother. The other limping due to it's injured paw. Jongard prepared his own attack, a swing of his paw from underneath. He slashed the other's throat open.

It gurgled, and died. The ring stopped glowing and Jongard reverted back to his human form. He picked up his bloodsoaked swords and made his way back to the Spire.

_You can expect quite a few chapters soon, I want to write this story kind of quick, since it's mostly just to provide background for the Nerevarine when he appears in The Story of Octavian in the Oblivion section. So you can hold your breath, since I should have another chapter up within the day._


	7. Wanted Answers

Free From Prophecy

Wanted Answers

Jongard had reached the Spire. He focused, and Dagoth Ur appeared again.

"You have gotten you vengeance, I see. Now it seems you have only one unresolved issue left." Dagoth Ur said.

"What did Vivec have to tell me?" Jongard replied.

"You need to go to Cyrodiil. In three years time, the Emperor and his three legitamate sons will be killed. There is nothing you can do to stop it, so don't even try. But, an illegitimate son will be discovered amidst Mehrunes Dagon's invasion of Tamriel. With him, all can be saved. But it will take the strength of two heroes to protect him from Dagon, and two heroes to protect Tamriel from an even greater threat. You will meet the other hero in Chorrol as an enemy. He said he heard it from Azura, who you couldn't hear over your own rage."

"Is there anything else?" Jongard asked.

"Yes, it's been said that you're in Akavir. Have a laugh over that. And the very last think is that your friends have not been captured by the Daedra. They were not in Oblivion at all. I thought that may put you at ease."

"Thank you. So, what should I do for the next three years?"

"I suppose you should get your arse to the Imperial Province and get some manner of lodgeing. By the way, no-one alive is as powerful as you yet. But the other hero may be able to help you get over your hard time dying in the future, should you have need."

"Why would I ever have need to die?" Jongard was thuroughlt confused.

"You may." Was all Dagoth said before dissapearing.

Jongard left for Cyrodiil. He lived there three years until the events that would change his life.

To be continued in "The Story of Octavian"


End file.
